


there is a light that never goes out

by teenagewaste



Series: leave as though fire burns under your feet [3]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Afterlife, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Newt loves Thomas, Post-The Death Cure, but it's there!, but there is not an ounce of angst in this, it says major character death, kind of, seriously they both think that the other created the universe, the mild content is literally just them making out, this is copious amounts of fluff, thomas loves newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16745212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagewaste/pseuds/teenagewaste
Summary: "I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...In life after life, in age after age, forever." - R. Tagorecan be read as a standalone





	there is a light that never goes out

**Author's Note:**

> title is ripped off from the smiths' song there is a light that never goes out
> 
> if you're reading this as a standalone, you may get a tiny bit confused, so i do recommend reading the first two parts of this series as well!

When Newt opened his eyes, he saw nothing—black, complete darkness. He held his hands in front of his face and he couldn’t even see the mere outline of them. He felt his head pounding; an unbearable pressure starting at his right temple and continuing through his head before stopping right behind his nose. He was disoriented, having almost fallen over immediately after standing, and he could feel that wherever he was, was quite a large space, considering he was able to take hesitant steps forward and to each side.

Newt stood there for a moment, still dizzy and confused, wondering where he was, what was going on, what the hell kind of dream is this? Until he remembered.

He was dead.

He had laid on the top of that hill, soft grass underneath him, and pressed the trigger right at his temple. Newt swore he would make things right, that he was going to make up for Thomas’ death—make up for what he had done. And this was his chance to do so. Surprisingly, knowing that this would be his punishment for killing his Tommy soothed him, the fear leaving him. He felt his entire body relax, and he let himself sit down again. He wasn’t scared anymore, not of this eternity. He was okay with this darkness, the idea of the unknown lurking around, the loneliness—it was all alright if this was what he had to go through to make things right for what he did to Thomas.

He could feel wherever he was moving upward quickly and the movement made him nauseous—the lack of sight making every other sense a million times more sensitive. He closed his eyes, despite it already being dark, hoping that the churning in his stomach and the burning in his esophagus would subside. But they didn’t; he kept his eyes closed anyway. Eventually, after minutes, hours, could’ve been days, Newt finally fell to the drowsiness that crushed him, falling asleep with the sick feeling still running through his body.

* * *

The first thing Newt heard when he woke up was a boy’s voice. The voice said his name, over and over again, shaking his shoulder gently. When Newt opened his eyes, taking a bit to adjust to the sudden light, the boy started to become a bit louder. He felt his body being dragged up and out of something, but he wasn’t sure what.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He could hear him yell, although he had to shut his eyes again. The boy sounded distraught, like something had just entirely shattered his being, but yet it still had a lift of almost a manic joy to it. Despite the fact that Newt instantly never wanted to hear that voice that upset again, he thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

“What’s with the yelling, mate?” Newt grumbled, sitting up and opening his eyes the best he could to get a glance at the stranger. “And why’s it bloody matter to you? Who am I to you?” 

After seven extremely long seconds of silence, Newt’s head stopped spinning, his eyes adjusted to the light, and his brain connected to all of the other parts of his body, and _of course it’s Tommy, who else would it be?_

“Tommy, Thomas, Tommy,” Newt whispered in disbelief, almost twisting his legs together and tripping with how fast he got up, and started walking rather quickly towards Thomas. Until he noticed how _pissed off_ Thomas looked. Newt slowed to a halt less than a foot away from him, slowly trying to gauge his reactions. “Tommy? Tommy, love, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t ‘love’ me right now, asshole!” Thomas stared Newt directly in the eyes, and his loud, angry tone didn’t match the distraught, broken look on his face. He had a layer of unshed tears in his eyes, although they were puffy and red already, so Newt would assume that he had already been crying sometime earlier. His hair was a mess, as if he had been pulling at it, and if anyone paid close enough attention, they could see the raw, slightly bloody skin around his nails. “You…you fucking—” Thomas cut himself off with a jagged breath, closing his eyes tightly,

“I-I had already watched you _jump_ , Newt, and this…you-you taking that gun and putting it to your head and the way your body just fell and you were gone and it took exactly twenty-six minutes and forty-one seconds for Minho and Teresa to get to you and you were just _gone._ ” Thomas was gasping for air, unable to get enough in his lungs with each inhale. Newt ran the rest of the way over, their argument be damned, and grabbed Thomas’ hand.

“Love, listen to me, just listen to me,” Newt squeezed his hand reassuringly, but didn’t go much closer than that. “Tommy, tell me five things you can see.” He squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter, a bit more reassuring.

“Y-your hair,” Thomas forced out, his voice shaky and his breath still coming out in gasps. “I can see your hair, and the grass…I can see the water, the sand…and I can see our hands.” Newt squeezed Thomas’ hand again, reminding him that he was still here, still keeping him grounded. 

“You’re doing great, Tommy, what about four things you can feel? Can you tell me that?” Newt tried to keep his voice as soft as possible. Thomas’ breaths were no longer large gasps for air, but rather shaky inhales with small gasps coming every so often. He closed his eyes tight. “No, love, I need you to open your eyes, c’mon, Tommy. Let me see how pretty your eyes are, yeah?” When Thomas’ eyes fluttered open again, Newt sent him a small smile. “There ya go, how about four things you can feel, now?”

“The wind, your skin, my clothes, the sand,”

“Three things you can hear?”

“You-Newt I can hear _you,”_ Thomas’ wide eyes locked on his, in shock, awe, fear, _love._ “I can hear the waves, a-and I can hear the wind blowing the leaves around.”

“You can hear me, I’m right here, I’m not leaving, love,” Newt kept his eyes locked on the other boys. Of course, they somehow manage to see each other again, after all that’s happened to them, and Newt had upset Thomas so much that he sent the other boy into a panic. “Two things you can smell?”

“ _You,”_ Thomas said, almost desperately. His breaths were still a bit uneven, but much calmer now, and although he was crying, Newt didn’t think the tears had much to do with the panic attack at all. “The salt from the ocean.”

“Just one thing you can taste, Tommy,” Thomas looked at him, unsure, and Newt never wanted to see this boy—so confident, so strong—ever look so fragile or insecure. Before Newt could get another word out, Thomas was up on his toes, pressing his lips to Newt’s briefly, enough to stun Newt into silence.

“You.”

* * *

Thomas took too much gratification in having died first.

“Y’know, I seem to remember a time when _I_ showed up unexpectedly, and you were the one who had to show me around,” Thomas snickered brushing his pinkie along Newt’s. It made his heart race—whether he thought Thomas was doing it on accident or not, the sensation burned through his body, but in the best kind of way. Newt still wasn’t sure where the two of them stood; it had been maybe ten minutes since he showed up and Tommy, _his Tommy,_ kissed him. “Maybe you have all the questions now. And I have all the answers, ‘cept I’m gonna share them with you because you’re cute.”

“We didn’t answer your questions because we didn’t want you to die, you stupid shank,” Newt muttered under his breath. Tommy had kissed him, yeah, but was it because he was mid-panic attack? Thomas loving Newt while the boy himself was dying meant nothing right now, because, really, all that time ago? Just because Thomas had died didn’t mean that in this clear version of the afterlife, he hadn’t moved on. Hadn’t forgotten Newt.

“Newt, what’s up? You’re acting all kinds of weird right now; you’re spacy and not listening to anything I was telling you. If-if you want I could just kinda,” Thomas pointed his thumb behind them, and Newt didn’t even bother looking in that direction, because he couldn’t believe that Thomas would think that Newt wanted him be anywhere but right next to him. “I could fuck off, go show you where you can sleep and leave you alone.” 

The thought of Thomas leaving him alone made bile rise in his throat, almost made him tremble. “No, Tommy, please stay. Please, please, please.” Newt whispered, looking anywhere but at Thomas. He was here _begging_ for this boy to stay, this beautiful boy in front of him, to not leave, to stay, stay, _stay_ with him. He didn’t think Thomas realized what he was really asking of him, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Thomas to know. 

_Please stay with me forever, don’t ever leave me alone again. I love you._

And maybe Thomas got it, or maybe the two of them were just so inside of each other’s heads that they knew, they felt, they loved in the same way. “I’m never going anywhere. Not again. I won’t leave you. So, you can get that out of your head, even though I know it’s not going to just disappear. I’ll prove it to you.”

Newt felt the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. He didn’t feel the urge to cry, or to breakdown like he was used to. He felt this calm, content feeling when Thomas wrapped both of his arms around Newt; his large arms holding Newt’s smaller frame making Newt feel the safest he’s felt in…well, since Thomas died.

“As I was _saying,_ I seem to remember this situation a little backwards, maybe I should be calling you Greenie now.”

“It’s been a long time since you showed up in the box that day, Tommy. Think your memory might be a little mistaken, mate.”

“Trust me, I know how long it’s been: five hundred and eight-six days since I showed up,” Thomas laughed a bit at the memory. 

“You…you _counted?_ ” Newt asked incredulously. Over five hundred days? That’s a bit much to keep track of, he couldn’t believe that somewhere in between the maze, and the scorch, and through rescuing Minho, through _dying,_ he had the time to count the exact amount of days since he had come to the glade.

“Of course, I did,” He stated, very sure, very matter-of-fact. “I fell in love with you that day, and I counted every single day that I got to live to see you, and when I died I counted every day that you were gone. I was never going to stop. I really didn’t expect you…so early.” On the last sentence, Tommy’s voice turned to a whisper and broke a bit. “I’m so god damned glad that you’re here, but God, I wish that I had seen you enjoy your life. I’m sorry I made you miserable.”

“ _You_ never made me miserable, Jesus, Tommy,” Newt said, almost desperately. “Not being with you, that’s what made me miserable, y’understand?” He sighed, grabbing Thomas’ hand and intertwining their fingers without hesitation. He stopped briefly to think about how natural it felt, how their fingers seemed to have done this exact dance a million times before. “I would’ve followed you anywhere, Tommy. Death included. I tried to live for you, but living without you hurt too much, felt too wrong, almost. Felt like I only had one lung, half a heart.”

Thomas snorted out a laugh, “Sappy,” Yet his smile was far from laughing; he was positively _beaming_. “I wish that you had had a better life.” Aside from the smile on his face, Newt could tell how much Thomas meant it. “You deserve more than what you got, and I’m sorry that I did that to you.”

“Tommy, shut up. I missed you, I felt guilty for what happened, and I couldn’t live in a world where you ceased to exist. Everyone missed you every day, and I’m sure of that, but yet sometimes it felt like I was mourning you alone. I couldn’t have that anymore. And now we have eternity together, yeah?” Newt smiled and leant in, planting a tiny peck on Thomas’ cheek, watching as his entire face turned pink.

“Okay…okay, yeah,” Newt wasn’t convinced. “Stop looking at me like that, I can tell what you’re thinking. I’ve known that look since we were kids.” Newt laughed before suddenly—

_Kids?_

“What do you mean, kids?”

“Oh, uh. Right. You’ll have your memory back in a few days, probably.” Thomas shrugged. “Seems like we’ve known each other since we were kids.” He stopped to smile again, outshining every constellation. “Seems like we loved each other since we were kids.”

“We’re _still_ kids, Tommy,” Newt sighed. “Loved each other, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Was a mess when they put you in the maze, was a mess when you…jumped. Those weren’t fun memories to relive. But…there were plenty of other memories that made up for it.” It seemed that Thomas couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how angry or upset his eyes looked, it was as if his face had been permanently glued that way.

“What are you smiling at?” Newt asked, squeezing Tommy’s fingers in his own. He had nearly forgotten that they were holding hands, and kept in the back of his mind that Thomas had made no move to pull away.

“You, Newt. Fuck…you.” He sighed, grabbing Newts other hand and pulling him forward, their foreheads rested against the other’s. “It’s been…fucking torture without you. I watched you every day; watched you wither away and isolate yourself and it made me want to scream. I’m smiling at you because you’re _here,_ and I’m _here,_ and we can finally be happy, shit, we can finally be happy. And before it was always a race, never enough time, but now? Now—”

“We have all the time in the world now, Tommy,” Newt smiled. “There’s enough time, no running out now.”

“Yeah,” Thomas sighed dreamily. “All the time in the world.” And he pressed his lips to Newt’s again—a deep kiss, but somehow gentle all the same. Newt had never felt so secure, wrapped up in Thomas’ arms, while his lips repeatedly pressed against Thomas’ _over, and over, and over_ again. He felt absolutely ecstatic, he felt absolutely drenched in love and tenderness, so much so that it was almost overwhelming. Yet he pushed through it, because he and Thomas’ hadn’t had time before, so they needed to catch up for whatever they missed out on while they were alive.

When Thomas pulled away after what felt like ages (it could’ve been, Newt didn’t know how time worked while dead), he kept Newt in his arms, holding him tight against his chest as if he was going to disappear any moment. Of course, Thomas would hold on like this, Newt supposed. The two had been separated for so long, Newt was scared that Thomas was going to disappear too.

“Do you want me to show you around some more?” Thomas whispered into Newt’s hair.

“I’d much prefer if we did more of what we were just doing, but yes, I s’pose you should show me around,” Newt sighed dramatically, reluctantly pulling himself out of Thomas’ arms, but keeping their hands tightly intertwined to keep them connected.

“Well, you saw the box. It’s not much different than the box from the glade, well, I guess here isn’t too different from the glade.” Thomas shrugged, walking the two of them over to the sand. The beach and rocks looked suspiciously like the Safe Haven, the only differences being that the monument rock didn’t stand in place at the middle of the waterfront, instead the box took that spot, and behind them were trees, that once again, looked suspiciously like the deadheads. “If you look down at the water, I bet we could see Paradise.”

Thomas smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Paradise, that was where Thomas wanted everyone to end up. Newt wasn’t even sure that Thomas himself wanted to be there, he has an inkling that it had more to do with Newt not being there than with Thomas not being there.

“This is paradise,” Newt said simply. “That island is subjective. How is someone going to define paradise for me? It couldn’t be everyone’s paradise. We’re all different humans; just because we finally had a safe place to be in no way meant that it was paradise. It was just a breath of fresh air, love. It wasn’t paradise, especially not without you.”

He wasn’t sure if the other boy even heard him with the way Thomas was staring out at that water. So, Newt squeezed his hand, causing Thomas to jump slightly and turn to face him with a sigh.

“Sorry…sorry.” Thomas whispered. “Can’t believe you’re not alive, though. I love having you here, love being able to remember you from before and know exactly what scars are where, knowing where to kiss on your body to make you fall apart, remembering what it feels like to hold you, to love you, to be with you. But you were supposed to live a full life. So many people were supposed to live full lives. I took that from them.”

“Tommy,” Newt sighed. “Your guilty conscious is the size of the bloody sun. When you look down at that island, do you know what you’re looking at? The lives you saved. The people you rescued. Those people are on that island because of you, you’re a legend. You’re a hero.” And suddenly another thought appeared in Newt’s head. “How much time here do you spend with the others?” 

Thomas looked up at him, almost ashamed—a child scared to be reprimanded. The damn kicked puppy look that made Newt melt every time.

He was strong, but boy, was he bloody weak when it came to Tommy. 

“I don’t really leave the cabin,” Thomas whispered. “I can’t look at them. I don’t know if they hate me, I don’t know if they worry that I never leave, all I know is that Chuck comes by once a day to talk to me nonstop, and that I missed the kid so much.” 

“Tommy, you need to go out, you need to talk to everyone. Alby’s here?” Thomas nodded. “Winston, Chuck, Ben, they’re all here?” Another nod. “Then c’mon, mate,” Newt pulled on Thomas’ arm, pulling him away from the water, past the box, and towards what he will be calling the deadheads.

“Newt, I’ve been here for almost a year and I’ve barely spoken a word to them. Don’t you think that if they didn’t blame me for their death’s they would’ve tried to talk to me by now?”

“Not at all, those shanks are a bit dull when it comes to social skills. Now show me around, I would like to see everyone and everything.”

So, Thomas pulled Newt along this time, through the ‘deadheads’ and to…well, literally to the glade, minus the intimidating walls surrounding them. There were huts lined up neatly, no more lopsided building in the middle of the homestead. Now, there was a large building standing where the old dilapidated one once did, kitchen and tables set up next to it under large awnings. The huts were lined up on either side of the centerpiece building, two neat rows that left the main building and kitchen in the middle. Off to one side, the garden and the animal pens sat; in another corner, the shower block. It was the glade, upgraded, but the glade nonetheless. There was even the large area where they had the bonfires—the hole in the ground surrounded by stones, the log where he and Thomas spent that first night.

“Yeah, I know, freaky, right?” Thomas laughed a bit. “Chuck pulled me out of that box, and I walked over here—it was like I never left.” Newt was barely able to reply, looking around at the place he called his home, the place that he had always been dying to get out of, yet now, this was the only place he would ever want to spend his eternity. “Hey, hey, Newt, you alright?” 

Newt could only nod dumbly as he took in his surroundings, his home, his _paradise._  

“Tommy, this is paradise,” He looked towards the boy who he loved endlessly, had loved endlessly since they were _children_ according to Thomas. And, God, was Newt looking forward to getting those memories back. “That island was never paradise. This place—this is home, where I belong. Where we belong.” Thomas smiled at him dopily, and Newt never wanted him to stop smiling.

“Okay…okay.” Thomas whispered, the smile still glued to his face. Newt knew that the guilt would never leave Thomas, but it seemed as if he were beginning to let go of the guilt involving Newt dying, and that was at least a start. “So, I’ll bring you to one of the cabins, obviously you don’t have any _stuff_ , but you probably at least want to make it your place, or something, I know you like flowers and we have a whole—”

“What if I stayed with you, instead?” Newt asked sheepishly. “Y’know, why waste a good cabin when I’d much prefer to be with you…if you’ll have me.” 

“Yeah,” The other boy replied in a sigh. “I’d have you, stay with me forever, don’t fucking leave, you could glue yourself to me and I’d thank you.”

Newt laughed, really, genuinely, laughed. He kissed Thomas on the head, squeezing his hand again. “Okay then, show me where I’ll be living, shank.” 

“Oh!” Thomas dragged Newt by the arm over to one of the bigger cabins, and, really, Thomas thinks that they hate him when he has a home almost double the size of most of the other ones? They’d have him sleeping with the pigs if they hated him. Thomas opened the door and pulled Newt inside, the door slamming shut behind them as Thomas pushed Newt up against it.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Thomas whispered, his hands around Newt’s wrists in a gentle hold, pressing Newt’s body back against the door, and his own body up against Newt’s. His face was so close, the two boys were breathing in the others exhales. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much.” Thomas was so close to him that he could feel the whispered words on his lips, and it made him dizzy. Newt had never let himself imagine situations like this, too much going on to be able to deal with trivial things like love. At least it was trivial then, or he pretended it was trivial then. But right here, right now, love is the farthest thing from trivial. Love is everything right now, Newt could feel it in his veins.

“I love you, too, Tommy,” Newt whispered back, their lips brushing on every syllable. It was making Newt so lightheaded he had no idea how he was breathing, let alone standing up and talking. “You have no idea, love. No idea.”

And then Thomas kissed him, _finally_ , and Thomas kept his hands pinned at his sides while he stole all of the air from Newt’s lungs. It was slow, loving, a lot like the other kiss, except this one had a sense of urgency to it. And then Thomas licked at Newt’s teeth and he was running his tongue along the roof of his mouth and Newt thought he was going to crumble to the ground. He pressed his wrists against Thomas’ hold—he wanted to _feel._ He wanted to make sure that Thomas was solid, and real, and whole, and okay.

Thomas let go of his wrists, hands going directly to Newt’s waist, grip so hard that Newt prayed he’d have bruises the next day, just to prove that this was real. Newt’s hands went everywhere—running down his back, blunt fingernails digging against his shirt, still sharp enough to leave a light sting and a hiss from Thomas into their kiss. He brought his hands up to Thomas’ hair, scratching his scalp, pulling on his hair, listening to the different sounds Thomas made when he did something different with his hands. Newt wanted to record it, memorize it, write an entire song that he could play on Thomas’ body.

Then, the lips were gone, and before Newt could let out a slight sound, the lips were back—but on his neck, and really, Newt knew that the second Thomas let go of his waist he was going to collapse to the floor. He had an inkling that Thomas knew that too, because he never let go, just tightened his grip every so often, making sure to have a good hold. Thomas licked right behind his ear, and Newt could hear himself let out an embarrassing whine. His face was without a doubt already flushed before, he could just see himself now.

Thomas smirked into his neck, kissing the spot, before placing open-mouthed kisses all down his neck. With some, a bite accompanied, others, a dark mark left behind. Newt couldn’t breathe, he kept pulling on Thomas’ hair and letting out small whines, sometimes sighed out ‘ _Tommy’_ s, but not much else. When Thomas finally made his way back to Newt’s mouth, he kissed him like he was starving, like the cure that Thomas had in his veins was the only thing to keep him alive. And it had been.

So, Newt kissed Thomas for saving his life, for being his friend, for loving him.

Thomas was the one to pull away, resting his forehead on Newt’s shoulder. “I really do love you. Every day was torture without you. I never wanted you to do this to yourself, but fuck, am I glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too, Tommy. Me bloody too.”

* * *

“I can’t do this, Newt, why don’t you just go out there and say hi, I can stay in here,” Thomas said desperately. “Just…please don’t make me do this.” Kicked puppy look.

_Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it._

“Tommy, you’ve been here almost a bloody year! You need to go talk to them.” Newt replied sternly. He stared at Thomas, waiting for a reply that he knew wasn’t going to come. Newt wasn’t sure how he knew that Thomas wouldn’t reply, but somehow, he just did.

And somehow Thomas could read minds.

“You knew I wouldn’t answer back if you said something in that tone,” Thomas breathed. “It’s because when you’re disappointed in me you use that voice, and that’s my least favorite thing. So, I don’t give smartass remarks back because I don’t want to make you disappointed.” Thomas stopped briefly, looking as if he were considering something, before the look instantly changed to one of nonchalant. “Also, it’s kind of hot.”

Newt felt his face heat up, shooting a glare at Thomas, then ignored his red cheeks and said, “We’re going outside, now. You get no say, you need to talk to them, you’re afraid of them hating you? Then find out if they really do, and work from there. From there, you can start to fix things, and you’ll feel so much better, Tommy.”

“Fine,” Thomas whined out. “But only because of the voice.”

“I’m sure I’ll know exactly how to use it when I get my memory back in a couple of days,” Newt smirked. “Then I’ll know exactly what you won’t tell me.”

“Want you to be surprised,” Thomas shrugged. “I loved experiencing it on my own.”

Newt looked at Thomas, his heart swelling. He felt so much adoration and love for this boy, who loved him so much that he wanted Newt to experience them falling in love on his own.

“Okay, fine.” Newt grumbled out. “Now, let’s go outside!” Newt grabbed his wrist and dragged Thomas out the door, on to soft grass. Newt inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of nature rather than the smell of the sea. He turned a bit, looking around to see if anyone was around. He saw two figures standing together, one tall, the other much shorter. When he was finally able to make out who it was, Newt was ecstatic.

“Chuck! Alby!” He shouted across the field. “Come here!” When the two boys spotted Thomas and Newt, they began to make their way over, and Thomas began to panic again.

“Newt, Chuck is one thing, but Alby too? Let me just go back inside.” He said, tugging in an attempt to get Newt to let go of Thomas’ hand.

“Tommy, you’re being ridiculous. If they hated you they would have made it abundantly clear right here. I would love to say that you’re being trivial, but for once, you’re not. I understand that you think that everyone here died because of you, but no one else has the same view on things. Your guilt complex is your worst enemy, because you fail to see that the people who got hurt don’t even blame you in the first place.” Newt paused, sighing. He didn’t want to see Thomas upset, not here, not ever, so he let go of Thomas’ hand. “If you want to go back, go. I don’t want to force you into this.”

Thomas stood there staring at him, dumbfounded, for about thirty-seven seconds, before grabbing Newt’s hand again, a new sort of determination in his eyes.

“You’re gonna be here the whole time, why should I be afraid?” Thomas said, staring ahead at the other two coming towards them. “You won’t let anything happen to me. You would do anything to make sure I’m okay.” He said it with such a sure voice, like what he said was a proven fact.

“I-,” Newt choked out. So, maybe they’ve decided that they’ve both loved one another for a good portion of time. Newt didn’t think Thomas should be reading his mind, at all, either, and they haven’t really spoken about dedication and the fact that Newt would literally have rather died than hurt Thomas. It’s kind of the whole reason that they’re in this position at all. It just seemed strange to Newt that Thomas would realize _now,_ when the boy was previously oblivious to anything and everything.

“Before,” Thomas hummed, rubbing his thumb down the back of Newt’s hand. “I just remembered that. When you told me you wouldn’t force me into this. I knew you’d make sure everything was okay.”

Newt felt awestricken, because even through losing their memories, they somehow still came to the same place—each other. And Newt reached the same level of devotion that he had before.

“Newt!” Chuck shouted, running up and grabbing Newt in a hug, so forceful that his grip on Thomas’ hand gave way. “How are you? What happened? What was Paradise like? Are you okay?” He fired question after question, reminding him a bit of Thomas back in the glade.

“I’m fine, Chuck. You don’t need to know what happened, and Paradise was…” Newt trailed off. He didn’t want to tell him that it had been horrible, because he knew that it was his own fault that it had been terrible. He didn’t want the boy to believe that everything always had to be bad. “It was great, Chuck. Beautiful, and everyone was so relaxed. Missed you guys, though, it was a bit tough.”

Chuck beamed up at him, hugging him even tighter. “Well, you’re here now and we’re all here, too. So, you don’t have to miss us.” 

“I hope not.” Newt chuckled. He looked towards Alby, who had a small grin on his lips. But Newt could only feel a deep sense of sadness and shame when he looked at the boy. When Chuck finally let go of him and went over to talk to Thomas, he walked closer to Alby. “I’m sorry, I didn’t do a good enough job. I couldn’t keep you alive, and that was my job, I was supposed to follow you.”

“Maybe, but if you had followed me, we might all have ended up dead.” Alby let out a dry chuckle. “You found someone else to follow, and he saved your life.” He looked pointedly at Tommy chasing Chuck around a tree stump. “He watched you, y’know. Every single day, he was at that water, from the moment he woke up, to the moment you went to sleep. You were never alone, you never lost him. You just couldn’t see him. You never lost us, either.”

“He thinks you all hate him,” Newt replied, trying to steer the subject in another direction.

“Nice try, we know, we just still haven’t figured out what to do about it, but good deflect,” Alby shot him a smile. “What you did was stupid. You had three chances to live, and you took them all away from yourself. But, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in the end.” He turned to look at Newt. “I don’t blame you for what happened to me. We’d all agree that Thomas was the one with the massive guilt complex, not you. Don’t let this drag you down. And he doesn’t blame you either.”

Newt sighed, knowing deep down that Alby was right, but Newt still couldn’t shake the feeling. If this, the deaths of two people, were overwhelming for him, he couldn’t even imagine the way Thomas must feel. The misplaced guilt probably keeps him awake at night.

“Now let’s go tell your boyfriend we don’t hate him,” Alby chuckled, walking towards Thomas and Chuck.

“He-Hey wait! He’s not my boyfriend,” Newt hissed at Alby. “We just…we’re just figuring out some stuff.”

“Figuring out how to leave marks on your neck?” He smirked at Newt. “We’ve all known since the day he came out of the box, we were waiting for you two to come around, but, well…we see how that went.” Newt couldn’t even find it in himself to be sad that he was dead. This place was much more of a paradise to him than the Safe Haven was. What he could feel, though, was his face turn entirely red at the reminder that he had large marks on his neck.

“Bug bites,” Newt grumbled.

“Yeah, sure, bug bites in heaven,” Alby chuckled again. “Thomas!” He called, watching as Thomas’ head shot up—right into a tree branch. Newt groaned _for_ him as he fell to the ground immediately after the contact.

“Tommy, you bloody idiot! You’re supposed to _check_ that there’s nothing you can hit your head on before you stand back up!”

Thomas weakly held his hand up in the air, giving the other boys a thumbs up. “S’all good, guys, s’all good.”

“Tommy,” Newt started. “Tommy stand up.”

“When the world stops spinning I’ll definitely do that, you’re using the voice again. But even that voice can’t drown out the dizziness I feel.”

“Voice?” Alby snickered. “How much are we missing out on?”

“Thomas’ memories, apparently we loved each other a hell of a lot more before this,” Newt motioned around a bit. “Before the maze, before we lost our memories. Since we were kids, he said.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised, Newt,” Alby waited for Thomas to get up, but the boy wouldn’t move. “Thomas! Get up and get your ass over here!”

Thomas quickly tried to scramble up, finally getting to his feet and stumbling towards them. When he finally reached Newt and Alby, he crashed into Newt, leaning his entire body weight on him like he needed Newt to stand. Newt wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him up as best as he could. _Yeah, Tommy, lean on the kid with the limp, why don’t you?_

“I’m here—my head hurts, but I’m here,” Thomas said, opening his eyes.

“Bonfire night, tonight. Are you coming this time?” Alby arched his eyebrows. “Chuck’s been inviting you since you got here, but you were always watching Newt,” Thomas turned a shade darker. “But now, there’s no Newt to watch. So, you and Newt coming out?” Thomas stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. “No one blames you, you didn’t kill any of us. Plus, we’re all dead anyway, why are we still talking about this?”

“I-I just…I don’t know.” Thomas stuttered out, clearly not wanting to go into detail about the reason he feels the way that he does. And thank God that Newt can sense it, because Thomas looked so uncomfortable that it was almost painful.

“We’ll be out, Alby,” Newt smiled at him. “I’m gonna take Tommy back inside, I think he’s broken.” Newt and Alby shared a laugh before they turned in their separate directions, Newt dragging Thomas back inside their cabin.

“Tommy, c’mon, lie down,” He groaned, pulling Thomas across the room and plopping him on the bed. “Bloody idiot, is what you are. You’re probably concussed.” 

Thomas laid on the bed, his eyes closed, and whispered, “Maybe they don’t hate me, but I hate me.”

“Tommy,” Newt sighed, sitting down on the bed next to Thomas. He grabbed one of Thomas’ hands in both of his, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Your misplaced guilt followed you even in death, which is absurd, but you shouldn’t hate yourself. We all had our part in following you, all of us. Casualties were caused by Wicked, caused by the flare, caused by everything but _you._ ”

“I _was_ Wicked,” Thomas argued.

“And then you weren’t,” Newt replied, matter-of-factly. “I also refuse to believe that even when you did work for them, you weren’t truly one of them.”

“Your friends died,”

“They were your friends too,” Newt didn’t disagree with him, because, yes, his friends did die. That fact wouldn’t change, they were all here, all dead. “But that doesn’t matter, especially not anymore.”

“You died.”

Newt was stunned into silence—he couldn’t believe that Thomas could possibly blame himself for what Newt had done.

“I died because of me, Thomas!” He was close to shouting, trying to get the idea through his think skull. “I don’t mean to yell, I’m sorry, but Tommy, I didn’t die because of you. I _lived_ because of you. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

Thomas looked up at Newt, eyes shining with unshed tears, before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“Head doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?” Newt whispered against his lips.

“’Course it still hurts, just don’t care,” Thomas replied, a small smirk coming to his face.

“Shut up,” Newt pressed their lips together harder, effectively cutting off the conversation.

If this was how his eternity was going to be, he could certainly deal with that.

* * *

The two boys sat together behind the log, the atmosphere replicating Thomas’ first night in the glade. The only difference now is the way that Thomas had his arm wrapped around Newt’s shoulder, while Newt pressed small kisses and soft nips at Thomas’ neck.

And the way that Thomas said, “Hell of a first day, Greenie,” He smirked. “Here, put some hair on your chest.” And proceeded to hand him a jar of what was seemingly Gally’s brew.

“How do you have this? I recall it being ‘Gally’s secret recipe’, what happened to that?” Newt snatched the jar out of his hand. “It’s so like you to remember exactly what I said.” He shook his head. “ _I’m_ the sap here?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas laughed. “Make fun of me all you want, I tend to remember a lot of things when it comes to you. And, yeah, Gally’s secret that he shared with Alby. Chuck brought me a jar every bonfire so I ‘didn’t miss out’.”

“Huh,” Newt muttered, taking a sip of the drink he had been so familiar with, embracing the way it lit a fire on the way down his throat and into his stomach. Thomas took a sip of his drink…and promptly choked and spluttered, much like the first time he had had the brew.

“God, I’m always going to hate this shit,” Thomas said, taking a large gulp after that, seeming to have gotten over the horrible taste after the first sip. “Always takes me one try before I can drink it.”

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you, Greenie?” Newt snickered. “You’re always going to be the greenbean here, Tommy.” Thomas groaned in reply, resting his head atop of Newt’s. 

“That’s so unfair,” He said, pressing a kiss to Newt’s hair.

“Are you glad you came out tonight?” Newt put his jar down and picked up Thomas’ hand instead, playing with his fingers with both hands before settling on holding them tightly between his own.

“I-yeah, actually,” Thomas admitted. “It’s nice to know they don’t despise me, that I’m at least welcomed. And it’s kind of cool to spend time with people that aren’t just myself and Chuck.”

“Well, good. I’m glad that you finally came to your senses,” Newt knew that there was a long way to go before Thomas’ guilt eased, but this was definitely a start. “I’m glad that you’re not afraid anymore.”

“I’m glad that I have you here,” Thomas said quickly. “I’m sorry-that’s probably inappropriate to say considering you had to die to get here and I’m definitely not glad that you’re dead, but I’m at least glad that you’re here and you’re dead. Not that you’re dead but—”

“Tommy!” Newt interrupted, giggling a bit and _since when does Newt giggle? "_ I know what you mean, quit your babbling.” Thomas fell into an easy laughter with Newt, kissing his cheek loud and sloppy.

“Ew!” The two boys turned around to see Chuck standing behind them. “Are you guys always going to be this gross?”

“Leave them alone, Chuck,” Winston snickered. “They’re in _love_.” The rest of the boys joined in laughing, and soon, Newt and Thomas were the victims of their friends remarks.

“Yeah, okay, we get it, guys,” Thomas laughed along, happier than Newt could ever remember him being. “I’m going to bed, Newt, you coming?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Newt stood up with Thomas, brushing the dirt off of his pants, taking his hand gently and following the other boy to their bed. _Their bed._

“Be quiet! We want to sleep, too!” Ben shouted behind them, the boys all chorusing similar remarks. Newt and Thomas ignored them, shutting themselves into the cabin and almost immediately falling onto the bed.

“Tired?” Newt murmured, finding the most comfortable position he could with Thomas’ head resting on his chest and their legs intertwined. He could feel drowsiness coming on suddenly, and he really hadn’t realized how tired he was until that very moment.

“Mhm,” Thomas hummed into Newt’s chest. “G’night, love you.” And promptly fell asleep, his breaths coming out even, his face relaxing, a peaceful look gracing his pretty features.

He smiled at the way Thomas looked years younger than he was while he was asleep and relaxed, and whispered into his hair before sleep washed over him, “I love you too, Tommy.”

* * *

The next morning, Newt awoke with a sudden sense of nostalgia.

_Nostalgia?_

He sat up quickly, pushing Thomas off of the bed in the process. Newt quickly looked around the room, wondering what could be making him feel such a sense of…remembrance. He glanced down at Thomas, who was just starting to wake up and push himself off of the floor with a groan.

A memory flashed in Newt’s head, the same image only somehow  _different,_ in a different time; a different place. 

And then Newt gasped.

“Tommy!” He shouted, memories coming over him like a waterfall. Bad, good, worse, _Tommy._ He didn’t want to think about anything else right now, wanted to focus on Thomas, on remembering _Thomas_ , because right now the rest didn’t matter. Flashes of them sneaking around Wicked’s halls when they were children, them running and tackling each other as they grew a bit older, the first time Thomas kissed him—they all came back, all at once. He squeezed his way around the bad memories, trying to rid them of everything but Thomas. 

“Where’s the fire, Newt?” Thomas grumbled. “It’s early and you knocked me on to the floor what the hell is—Newt?” Newt must’ve been smiling like an idiot, because Thomas gave him a skeptical look for all of three seconds before a smile grew on his face. “Did it happen?”

“It happened,” Newt was on the verge of crying, too many emotions flooding him at once. “I remember, I remember everything, I remember _you._ ”

“Fuck, Newt,” Thomas scrambled up onto the bed, peppering kisses all around his face. “I love you, you remember that I love you, you remember how you loved me and how I loved you, and, God, I love you." 

Newt laughed, a pure, genuine, ecstatic laugh, “I love you too, Tommy.”

“And we have an eternity to do it now, no more time restrictions.”

“All the time in the world, love.” Newt smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Thomas’ lips, feeling the way that the sensation felt so familiar now, like coming home. “All the time in the world.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> there we go! newtmas fluff to make up for all of the bullshit i pulled to get here! i hope you enjoy and if you read as a standalone check out the other two parts of this series :)
> 
> this is probably the final piece of this series but i'm not too sure yet. i kind of enjoyed writing teresa so i may do something about her linked to this universe. 
> 
> hang out w me on twitter @/voidtrials !!


End file.
